Page 5 of Duke of Myste (Braving the Elements #3)

“ I am not dissatisfied,” she replied finally. “Merely… contemplative. Your offer is both honorable and practical, as I would expect from a man of your reputation. However…” she paused, gathering her courage. “I cannot accept it at this moment.”

From the window came the unmistakable sound of Lady Drownshire’s embroidery scissors clattering to the floor. The Duke himself seemed momentarily taken aback, his composure slipping to reveal genuine surprise before he recovered.

“May I inquire as to your reasons?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Jane lifted her chin slightly, meeting his gaze directly.

“I believe that marriage—even one born of unusual circumstances—should be entered with full understanding and acceptance of what it entails. I know very little about you, beyond your title and reputation, just as you know little about me, beyond my outspoken nature.”

He considered this, his expression thoughtful rather than offended, as she had expected. “A fair assessment,” he acknowledged. “What would you propose instead?”

Jane gulped slightly. She had not anticipated this question. In fact, she had expected indignation or withdrawal rather than genuine inquiry. She suddenly found herself improvising, drawing from half-formed thoughts that had swirled through her mind during the sleepless hours of the previous night.

“A period of… acquaintance,” she suggested. “Time for us to determine whether we could indeed forge a marriage of mutual respect, as you put it.”

“A courtship, you mean?”

“If you wish to call it that,” Jane relented, though she found the term somewhat inadequate for what she envisioned. “Though, perhaps with more honest conversation and less empty flattery than is customary.”

For the first time since entering the room, the Duke’s stern features relaxed into something that might almost be called a smile—a subtle softening around the eyes, a slight easing of the firm line of his mouth.

“Miss Brandon,” he said, “I believe that is the first suggestion regarding social convention that we have found ourselves in perfect agreement upon.”

The unexpected concession—delivered with what appeared to be genuine approval—momentarily disarmed Jane completely. She found herself returning his almost-smile with one of her own before she could reconsider the wisdom of such encouragement.

“Then we are agreed?” she asked. “You will not withdraw your offer, but neither will you expect an immediate answer?”

He inclined his head. “I believe a fortnight of acquaintance would be suitable. Society will be appeased by the knowledge that an offer has been made and is being considered, while we both gain the advantage of more informed decision-making.”

From her position by the window, Lady Drownshire could contain herself no longer. “A fortnight?” she interjected, dropping all pretense of not eavesdropping. “But the gossip, the speculation that?—”

“Will occur regardless, Mama,” Jane pointed out gently. “At least this way, the decision will be made with clear heads rather than in panicked haste.”

The Duke rose from his chair, signaling the end to their private conversation.

“Lady Drownshire,” he addressed the Viscountess directly, “I assure you that Miss Brandon’s reputation will be safe throughout this period.

We will appear together at appropriate social functions, giving the impression that a formal courtship is underway. ”

Lady Drownshire seemed only partially mollified. “And after this fortnight? What, then?”

“Then,” he replied, his gaze turning to Jane with an intensity that sent an inexplicable warmth through her chest, “Miss Brandon will give me her answer, and we will proceed accordingly.”

Jane stood up as well, suddenly aware of how he towered over her and how the morning light cast interesting shadows across his face.

“I believe this arrangement is eminently sensible, Mama,” she said, her voice remarkably steady despite the strange fluttering sensation that had taken up residence just below her ribcage.

“His Grace and I will have the opportunity to determine whether we suit each other while Society’s expectations are sufficiently addressed. ”

Lady Drownshire sighed, recognizing defeat when it presented itself. “Very well. I shall inform your father. Though I warn you both, he will not be pleased with this delay.”

“I shall speak with Lord Drownshire,” the Duke offered, his tone brooking no argument. “I believe I can address his concerns satisfactorily.”

As Lady Drownshire departed to fetch her husband, Jane found herself alone with the Duke—a circumstance that suddenly seemed far more significant than it had before their conversation.

Now that they had reached an agreement of sorts, an awkward silence descended on them, neither quite certain how to proceed in this unprecedented situation.

“I should thank you,” Jane said finally. “Many men in your position would have insisted on immediate acceptance.”

The Duke regarded her steadily. “I have never found that forcing decisions leads to favorable outcomes, Miss Brandon. Particularly when those decisions involve lifetime commitment.”

“A remarkably progressive view, Your Grace.”

“Perhaps,” he acknowledged. “Or merely a practical one. A reluctant bride makes for an unhappy duchess, after all.”

Jane could not help the small smile that tugged at her lips. “Heaven forbid the Duke of Myste should find himself with an unhappy duchess disturbing the perfect order of his household.”

To her surprise, a corresponding smile flickered briefly across his stern features. “Indeed. The scandal would be unprecedented.”

That unexpected flash of humor—dry and subtle as it was—caught Jane entirely off guard. She found herself reconsidering her initial assessment of the Duke yet again, adding another layer of complexity to the man she had previously dismissed as merely rigid and unyielding.

“Well then,” she said, trying to regain her mental footing, “shall we consider this the official beginning of our… acquaintance period?”

The Duke inclined his head, his expression once more inscrutable. “Indeed, Miss Brandon. Though I believe a proper courtship requires more formal activities than clandestine conversations in morning rooms.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“A promenade in Hyde Park tomorrow afternoon would be an appropriate first step,” he suggested. “Visible enough to satisfy societal expectations, yet public enough to ensure propriety.”

Jane nodded, finding the suggestion reasonable. “Two o’clock?”

“I shall call on you at half past one,” he confirmed, just as the door opened to admit Lord Drownshire, whose expression suggested that Lady Drownshire had already informed him of the unexpected turn of events.

“Your Grace,” he began without preamble, “my wife informs me that you and Jane have reached some sort of… agreement.”

The Duke turned to face him, his posture straightening imperceptibly. “Indeed, Lord Drownshire. Miss Brandon has wisely suggested we take time to become better acquainted before finalizing our commitment. I have agreed to a fortnight of formal courtship, after which she shall give me her answer.”

Lord Drownshire’s bushy eyebrows drew together. “A fortnight? But the scandal?—”

“Will be addressed by our association,” the Duke interrupted smoothly. “Society will understand that an offer has been made and is being considered. This is not an unusual procedure, even in more… conventional circumstances.”

Jane watched with grudging admiration as her father’s objections were systematically dismantled by the Duke’s logical arguments and authoritative manner.

Within minutes, Lord Drownshire had been reduced from blustering opposition to reluctant acceptance—a feat she had rarely witnessed in all her years of argumentative engagement with her father.

“Very well,” he conceded finally. “A fortnight. But not a day more, you understand? This family’s reputation has suffered enough of late.”

“Perfectly understood,” the Duke replied with dignified confidence. “And now, I believe I have taken enough of your time this morning. Miss Brandon—” He turned to Jane once more. “I shall call on you tomorrow at half past one.”

“I look forward to it, Your Grace,” Jane returned, the words leaving her lips automatically, though she was not entirely certain of their truth.

As the Duke took his leave with impeccable courtesy, Jane found herself watching his departure with emotions she could not immediately identify.

Relief, certainly, that she had bought herself some time to consider her position more carefully.

Apprehension about the courtship that lay ahead.

But beneath all those emotions lurked something else entirely—a curious spark of… something she could not quite name.

She shook her head. The Duke of Myste represented everything she had spent years arguing against—rigid adherence to tradition, unyielding propriety, the embodiment of societal constraints she had long chafed against.

And yet…

There had been those moments—brief flashes of humor, of genuine engagement with her ideas, rather than outright dismissal of them. And then there was the surprising reasonableness with which he had accepted her counter-proposal.

She thought of the intensity of his gaze when he had looked at her directly, as though truly seeing her rather than merely the scandal she represented.

As Jane stood in the morning room, absently touching the spot on her wrist that his fingers had briefly brushed during their farewells, she acknowledged a disconcerting possibility: perhaps the Duke of Myste was not the man she had assumed him to be.

And somehow that realization was the most unsettling development of all.